Monday 26th February - The Calm Before the Storm

I expect you think the blog title refers the the incoming weather

but no,

I am thinking of this being my last day off work before I leap back into the fray.

I am starting gently, with a couple of private students this evening. See how that goes.

I tackled an "extreme" killer suduko puzzle this morning with some success, so that is a step up from yesterday. Not this one; I've got it from the internet, and would rate it as heading for "extreme"

https://www.dailykillersudoku.com/

I've finished reading "Summer Story" by Jill Barklem, the second of the Brambly Hedge series. Dusty Dogwood, the miller and Poppy Eyebright, who runs the dairy, get married.

"Poppy Eyebright, do you love Dusty Dogwood, and will you love him and care for him for ever and ever?"
"I will."
"Dusty Dogwood, do you love Poppy, and will you love her and look after her for ever and ever?"
"I will."
"Then in the name of the flowers and the fields, the stars in the sky, and the streams that flow down to the sea, and the mystery that breathes wonder into all these things, I pronounce you mouse and wife."

Altogether "Ahhhh." 

A shorter and simpler ceremony than ours, all those years ago. Our cake did have three tiers, as I remember... 

And a timely reminder that Summer will come again. .

Sunday 29th February - Comforts

I came home a day or so ago to find a package awaiting my attention...

it contained a card and TWO boxes of chocolate!

I can't show you what the chocolates looked like

 

I can only explain that there were four in each box, shaped like maple leaves, and filled with a delicious maple fondant/cream sort of yumminess. We had one each, and another, and that was one box finished. We considered saving the other box for later that evening, but then we ate them anyway. Four each, with a cup of coffee, in the break between me getting home and starting teaching again.

 

The card has lasted longer than the chocolates, and is reminding me to send a thank you note.

 

Thinking over the ups and down of the past few months, lots of people have asked "what can we do?" and have offered all kinds of suggestions - making us a meal - meeting for a coffee.

 

These expressions of sympathy and cards and offers have been greatly appreciated (we have a home-made fish pie n the freezer as I write!).

 

Here are some of the other treats and physical expressions of sympathy that have lightened the darkness:

 

 

 

Lovely bunches of spring flowers, which I had on the kitchen windowsill. There was also a pot of snowdrops.  (These are from the garden - the pot on the windowsill was a lovely sight too but is just leaves now). I find flowers to be a considerable comfort and joy. Without the calories. 

 

  

Cake! With a serious amount of jam in the middle!

 

 

And, of course, the huggy bear.

 

 

Looking for these pictures has meant scrolling through the picasa albums for this year and last year.

 

- ah, that was when - oh, I'd forgotten that - oh, my word, I remember how -

 

Pass me the bear for a minute...  that's better.

 





Saturday 16th Saturday - Family Life

The Christmas Cactus on the left is one I bought for my mother on her arrival at the nursing home. It had a few flowers and plenty of buds. Unfortunately it immediately sulked and threw all its buds on the floor, so I brought it home. The cyclamens were also bought at the same time; I kept the one in the middle for myself, and took the other one to the nursing home. It, too, found the room uncongenial, so I brought it home. Too late, I suspect. It certainly doesn't like anything like its neighbour!

I'm wondering what will survive the warm, dry atmosphere at the nursing home - the daffodil bulbs did well...

Anyway. The first important thing to report is that the chocolate plate is empty.

I'll fix that later this evening by making some chocolate cake. And tidying the dining room table.



The second important thing to report is that I've been eating pickled gherkins. Out of the jar. With my fingers. I'm very partial to them.

Why? Oh well. It's kind of hard to explain.  

I think most of us have come to terms now with my mother's circumstances. When friends and family ring, or write, or email, they send kind, gentle, well-wishes, and snippets of news, and amusing comments. It's easier for all of us to just enjoy the moment, and not dwell too much on the unknowable future. Nothing can be pinned down, or known for sure.

Expressions of desperate and emotional hopes and wishes for a full return to health as soon as possible are hard for me to deal with. We all want the best. It goes without saying. In a way, it's the "not saying" that is hard, but it's the "not saying" that helps everything tick along. So, thank you, everyone, for your considerate and loving support to us all.

And if occasionally I have to resort to the pickled gherkin jar after receiving a "harder" phone call, so be it. This was just a three-gherkin call!

We (my husband and I - how can I put that without sounding like a parody of The Queen's Christmas Speech??) will be visiting my mother again on Sunday, hopefully taking some fruit smoothies, as requested, and some hardier plants to replace the three wilting cyclamens that are currently in her room.

Sunday 9th November - More about housework

He says he does do dusting.

Ah. Sorry. I just happened to notice the shelves of knick-knacks above the tv, which don't get dusted very often.

Mrs Degas polishes the goldfish

(we don't have any goldfish)

And at the moment, ironing isn't necessary, as he doesn't wear "smart-shirts-for-work" any more, and I make a point of wearing clothes that don't need ironing. So the question of "who will do the ironing" doesn't arise.

His view is that, if he were living on his own, he would have to do all these house-worky sorts of things anyway. I hadn't thought of it that way round.
   

Sunday 3rd November - And that was Half Term

That was the week that was - it arrived after a

week of chaos, and was spent in chaos.

 

I got through 29 of the 32 items on the to-to list, not counting the half-dozen or more items that got done but never made it onto the list.

Number One Son came to stay for a few days.





We went out to Arundel for a day as a whole family - and I was much better walking up and down the hills than I had been walking around on the flat the previous weekend. We bought Roly's fudge - EXCELLENT. Unfortunately I have now finished all my fudge.

I went for a lovely day out at Pulborough Brooks with Number One Son - that was a really good day out.

I cleaned, hovered, sorted, tidied. (Number One Son helped - bless you)

I went to London twice for hospital appointments. (Lung Function tests showed that the cyclophosphamide has been effective, and my lung function has improved. So I shall hopefully be able to continue with a similar immune suppressant medication - that's a "hooray"!)

While I was there I visited the Saatchi Gallery twice, the huge Peter Jones in Sloane Square to gawp at rare and expensive knitting yarns, and lighting displays (we plan to replace our sitting room light sometime), and Harrods gawp like a tourist at the décor, and Patisserie Valerie indulge myself with Nata tarts and mignon pastries. (I've just finished re-reading "Moon over Soho" and the jazz-vampire was always eating cream cakes in Patisserie Valerie, which was what made me want to go there again)

My piano teacher, who I "re-discovered" on the internet a few years ago having not been in contact since about 1974, has come to stay for a week (hence the housework!). I've had a couple of piano lessons, and in return she has been having lessons on how to operate her new tablet.




Today My Best Husband and I went for a stroll around some little fishing lakes and woodlands nearby at Sumners Lakes. I noticed that I had noticeably more stamina, at one point managing to get up a steep and slippery slope in one go without having to pause and catch my breath.





It has been a hard-working half-term "holiday", and there is a significant amount of work to do before I will be ready for the rest of term, but, even so, I reckon I am embarking upon the next seven weeks in better shape than when I started at the beginning of this term! 

Saturday 27th July - Hopelessly Sentimental - Goodnight, my Angel

Angel and foliage, All Saints Church, Kingweston
Wikipedia Commons

This is what I listen to, time and time again, on my mp3 player at night.

The version I have is from "Lullabies and Goodbyes" by Cantabile  - a male voice quartet. It's just fab. Fabulous. Very Good.

http://www.cantabile.com/index.php


Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Wherever you may go, no matter where you are
I never will be far away

Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep
And still so many things I want to say
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an Emerald Bay
And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me

Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby 
Then in your heart, there will always be a part of me
Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on
They never die, that's how you and I will be

I didn't know much about the song before I got the Cantabile CD. It's a Billy Joel number, and you can hear it on YouTube: Goodnight my angel. I like his version, but I love the Cantabile one.

Sunday 7th July - is this true?

On the whole, the more I read this, the more I - well I'm not sure what think.



http://revdkathy.tumblr.com/post/54657630623

How much you loved

"How much you loved"; doesn't this depend, to a very great degree, on how much you are, or have been loved? And however much you are, or have been loved, you have to accept, receive, acknowledge this love. I reckon I've been very lucky in being loved.

 How much have I loved? How much have I been loved? a pint? a bucketful? a ton? overflowing? totally? completely? for now? for ever? for always?

How do you measure "how much"? How much is enough? As he always says, "quantify!"

I love my family, my wider family, my friends, the people I know. I'm not sure how much I love them - it has never been put to the test. I hope that I love them completely, totally, forever. How much is that? Miles? Vats? Lots?

How gently you lived

I'm living very fiercely at the moment.

I'm fighting to keep my health, my levels of activity. I'm fighting to keep my optimism. I'm fighting off attempts to be looked after in ways that I feel will undermine my ability to stay active and functional;

"Don't you feel you are doing too much?" "NO!"
"Isn't it time you stared to cut back a little" "NO!"

I asked the consultant what I should do; conserve the functionality I had left, or is it a case of "use it or lose it?" He was most emphatic - "Use it or lose it" was his answer.
 
I'm also fighting the hunger battle with steroids. I'm so grateful for a friend, who warned me that steroids can make you feel hungry when really, you don't NEED to eat at that moment. I'm full of sympathy for a woman I met at the last hospital visit, who has put on three stone in eight months "It's the steroids, they make you put on weight". She's in a dreadful way - too heavy to get about and do exercise, but desperately needing to lose that weight in order to stay active.

So please don't say "go on, there's nothing on you, go on, have another piece of cake, you don't need to diet". I'm not dieting, I'm working at staying the same!

How gracefully you let go of things not meant for you

Yes, this one makes sense. The gifts and talents that I possess have evolved over time, and if I had relentlessly gripped onto what I felt was important, I think my life would have been the poorer.

I'm not the same person that I was as a teenager, or when I was 20 and got married, or 30 and had children, or 40 and started piano teaching, or 50 and started classroom teaching.

And it's not just how gracefully I let go; but it's also how gracefully I have been given space and encouragement to change, evolve, mature, grow, by my loving family.

Thanks, folks!

Thursday1st November 2012 - Kindness of friends

According to my sources of information, November is National Blog Promotion Month and also National Novel Writing Month.

http://boggyb.livejournal.com/320161.html

The first is a challenge is to post an entry to your blog every day for the month, and the second to get that novel that everyone is supposed to have inside them written inside a month. At least I don't have to try and grow a moustache for Movember as well. NO JOKES NEEDED AT THIS POINT, fellas.



http://uk.movember.com/?home

 

Today's post concerns the kindness of friends...

 

 

In the midst of our lives being turned upside down, friends have responded with gentle tact, lovingkindness, and cake. I am learning far more than I ever wanted to know about what happens when someone very near, and very dear to you has a stroke. It is early days yet, as this bolt from the blue struck just 2 days ago - just 2 days ago? is that all?

 

Family members, scattered across the country, have rallied with support, encouragement, information, such as inside knowledge that the hospital has an excellent reputation for their treatment of stroke patients.

 

We can count the blessings; it is half term, my husband had taken the week off, my brother was there when it happened and did the whole ambulance and tense journey to hospital bit. We have a couple of days of space before we are expected back at work, giving us time to come to terms with everything and make plans and arrangements for the weeks and months ahead.

 

Meanwhile, we shall eat the cake that appeared on our doorstep and be comforted.

 

 

In the circumstances, the novel will have to wait for another year... - I feel as though I am living inside a work of fiction at the moment, but that is wishful thinking. yesterday, we switched on the television to find ourselves in the middle of an episode of Casualty or Holby City or something - it's not a series that we have every watched. Couldn't get the channel changed quick enough, to something which would be far removed from our current weird version of reality.

 

I am clutching to the memories I have of various people I have known over the years who have had strokes. They are encouraging memories, as, for the most part, they have made astonishing recoveries which are like a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel.

 

I think I need a slice of that cake NOW.